Elysia hit hard. Iron bit flesh and bone, the stakes tearing through cloak and skin, stopping inches shy of killing blow by the mercy of angles and instinct. Pain seared her nerves like fire. Her shift howled inside her, bones halfway into wolf, halfway into woman—trapped between.
Above her, the collector's laugh slid across the night. "Even legends fall," he said, and the words dripped smug satisfaction.
Elysia's claws punched into wood. She wrenched herself sideways, teeth bared, blood running hot. She would not die pinned like an animal in a hunter's snare.
"Elysia!" Cathal's cry tore the night. He struggled against the wolfsbane net, coughing, eyes wide with terror. The boy's voice, raw with trust, cut deeper than the stakes.
Dimitri's roar thundered from the ditch's edge. The Alpha vaulted down with a ferocity that shook the pit. His blade flashed, severing ropes and driving back the men who tried to drag Cathal deeper into shadow.
Kieran stood above, unmoving, torch in hand. His face was unreadable—too calm for a man watching his Alpha fall into a trap.
"Help us!" Cathal shouted up at him. "Kieran, please!"
The Beta's eyes flickered—not to the boy, but to Dimitri. Then he turned his back and walked into the trees.
Elysia's rage snapped her bones the rest of the way. The change tore through her, shredding flesh into fur, scream into growl. Ashen Wolf rose, scarred and furious, glowing faintly where wolfsbane burned in her blood. Her claws tore through the stake pinning her shoulder. She heaved upright, eyes burning gold.
The collector's smile faltered. Just for a second. "Ah," he murmured. "There she is."
Wolves lunged at her from the rim—leashed beasts with wolfsbane rubbed into their paws. They hit the pit, snapping, frothing. Elysia met them head-on, jaws breaking one's throat, claws slashing another into silence. Blood and wolfsbane smoke filled the pit with choking haze.
Dimitri fought beside her, blade carving through rope and hide, his presence a wall between Cathal and the hunters closing in. For a moment, Alpha and Ashen Wolf moved in rhythm, as if years of silence hadn't grown between them.
Cathal scrambled free of the net, gasping, clutching the snapped moonstone in his fist. "We have to go!" he cried.
The collector lifted his hand. More bolts sang from the trees, sparking off pit walls. Dimitri deflected one; another cut across Elysia's flank. Pain screamed white, but she stayed standing.
"You can't fight forever," the collector called down, voice smooth. "Give me the boy, and you crawl away alive. Refuse, and I bleed your pack dry until no howl is left in these woods."
Dimitri bared his teeth. "Over my dead body."
"That can be arranged," the collector purred.
A horn blared from deeper in the camp—Shadowclaw's signal, desperate and wild. They were under attack inside the walls.
Elysia froze. The wolves here weren't the true strike. They were distraction. The real blade had slid straight into the pack's heart.
Dimitri's head snapped toward the sound, horror sharpening his eyes. "Kieran," he growled. He understood now.
The collector bowed mockingly. "Choose, Alpha. Save your pack, or save your son."
For the first time, Elysia saw fear in Dimitri's face—not for himself, but for Cathal. She looked at the boy clutching the broken moonstone, saw his trust like a light no darkness could smother, and knew she could not let him be a bargaining chip.
The Ashen Wolf rose fully in her, golden eyes searing. "Neither," she snarled, and leapt.
Her jaws closed around the collector's arm, tearing through flesh. He screamed, stumbling back, dropping the leash he'd used to tether his wolves. The beasts faltered, confused, momentarily free.
Dimitri seized Cathal, hauling him close. "We run!"
But the pit still hemmed them in. Hunters ringed the rim, crossbows drawn, wolfsbane vials ready. Escape looked impossible.
Until the ground itself shook.
A low, rumbling howl thundered through the forest—answered by another, and another. From the north, a second pack charged, shadows pouring down the slope. Not Darkclaw. Not Shadowclaw. Something else.
Elysia's breath hitched, wolf instincts bristling. Their scent was wrong—ancient, cold, older than the packs of these woods.
The collector's bloody smile returned, savage through the pain. "Ah. My allies arrive."
Above, massive forms broke the treeline, their eyes burning pale as ice. Wolves, but not of any pack Elysia had known. Outsiders. Forgotten bloodlines resurrected.
Cathal's small hand clutched her fur. "What are they?"
Elysia's chest heaved, golden eyes locked on the unnatural wolves pouring into the clearing. "Trouble," she growled.
The rim closed with shadow. Escape vanished. The Ashen Wolf braced on the pit's torn floor, blood dripping from her flank, jaw set against the impossible.
And then, through the din, Kieran's voice rang out clear, mocking and triumphant:
"Shadowclaw has no Alpha now. Only prey."
The pack's law cracked like glass. Dimitri froze, blade still in hand, as the meaning sank in. Betrayal was no longer whispered—it was declared.
Elysia's snarl echoed through the pit, a promise carved into the night. This was no longer just war. This was treachery. And she would not let Shadowclaw—or Cathal—fall without her teeth at the throat of whoever claimed them.